When We’re Dangerous Like This

It’s that way that he – daaamn – leans against that wall, looking like a fight just beggin to jump ya with a gorgeous store-bought bulge in his button fly jeans, old friends that know how to hug him just right, with that grease stain on the side that reminds me where his mind likes to wander and his no big deal hair that you know took him hours in the mirror to learn to comb just right, so he can pull it off fast and easy when the pretty girls are watching, and he stares like a bull, like a prayer on fire, with those eyes – god, those eyes, coke-bottle green, with a wink that tells you things your mama never did – and he stares right through me, yeah me, like I’m dinner and he’s the hungriest man on earth and you know he’d rip right through you…yeah, he loves me right then like leather loves soul, like a man loves a woman when she’s down on her knees, but he loves her like lace, and he holds her like
a loaded weapon.

Yeah, that’s the way my man waits for me while I pull on the silk and the beads and the so-red-he-should’ve-crossed-himself-twice-before-kissing-me lipstick that makes him go weak in the knees and wild inside, and I walk right by him, so close he can smell roses and sex, that smell that says “I look this way for you, boy, so you better take notice” with a dip that lets him see how good I taste and he knows how lost I am in his low gravel voice and his slick cowboy boots and his I-couldn’t-care-less-arms that care so hard they nearly rip me in two.  With my heels clicking hard on the wet asphalt road and my scent wrapped through his mind like my fingers in his hair we dance together, arm in arm – a slow, cocky stride, a challenge to the night to be darker than we are, rough and hard like the creatures that hide in the shadows and make nice folks want to lock their doors and hide away from lives that scream and howl with passion and yearning, those sexy wonderful nights when

we’re dangerous like this.


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